Her New Fantasy
by AmethystWren
Summary: One-shot. Set between series 4 and series 5. Gwen adapts to the unfamiliar role of Camelot's queen. "She remembered the fear she'd felt, each and every time she'd been thrown to her knees, can see that same terror mirrored in the eyes of the convicted criminals placed before her. And it's the hardest thing in the world to say those three words: "Take them away."


**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any characters, places or ideas you recognise from it.**

* * *

She used to spend all her time fantasizing about being queen. The duties, the authority and the riches rarely came into the equation. Her daydreams usually revolved around Arthur. They'd sit side-by-side as they ate dinner, they'd brief the knights before they went out on daring adventures, they'd sit next to each-other in the throne room. Her mind liked to focus on how she could spend so much more time with Arthur, how they could be so much more open about their love, if she was Camelot's queen rather than just a serving girl.

In reality, she was swiftly finding that it wasn't like that at all. For starters, Arthur was away an awful lot. If she was honest with herself, Gwen didn't know what she'd been expecting; of course he'd be away a lot; when hadn't he been? Still, as Morgana's forces grew stronger and stronger, Gwen found that she saw less and less of her husband. And she didn't like it one bit.

Ruling Camelot was _Arthur's_ forte. Uther had raised his son to inherit this role, drilled the etiquette, the rules, the expectations into the boy's head from an early age. Guinevere was the daughter of a blacksmith. As important as blacksmiths were to the people of Camelot, it was in a very different way to the royal family. It was times like this that Gaius proved his worth, reminded her just how loyal he had always been through everything.

* * *

The authority was fun, at first. Arthur had tried to make her laugh by teasing Merlin, which was always funny. But, all too quickly, its novelty began to wear off. People expected her to lead them. When Arthur was with her, this wasn't such a hard task. But when he was away… She found it hard to make decisions, particularly when it came to sentencing criminals. How many times had she been thrown at King Uther's feet, accused of a crime she hadn't committed, and sentenced to death?

She remembered the fear she'd felt, each and every time she'd been thrown to her knees, can see that same terror mirrored in the eyes of the convicted criminals placed before her. And it's the hardest thing in the world to say those three words: "Take them away."

The first time it happened, Arthur had been out hunting with the knights (and Merlin, of course), otherwise he, like all the times prior, would've dealt with it. She had been having a conversation with the girl who had been her maidservant before Sefa; Ceri.

Ceri had been asking which scented soap her lady would prefer her bed sheets to be washed in- a luxury Gwen was unsure she'd ever grow used to- when the door had been flung open and two men wearing the uniform of Camelot's royal bodyguard had marched a scruffy-looking man in, pushed him down to kneel at the bottom of the steps atop which Gwen sat in her throne.

The maidservant had squealed and dashed a few steps upward, running behind Gwen's throne and peering out from over the top. Gwen, for the moment, decided it was best to ignore her and concentrate on the task at hand.

"What's going on?" She asked one of the uniformed men.

"This man was found trying to poison the kitchen food, your majesty." He explained. When she didn't answer, he prompted, "It's usually punishable by death."

"I know." Guinevere had practically whispered. She swallowed, and looked the man at her feet straight in the eye. Somehow, she managed to outwardly ignore the fear she saw there, even if, inside, her stomach felt like it was falling without the rest of her. "It's a serious offence."

"_You_ need to give the sentence, your majesty." The guard prompted, a little more gently than his tough appearance would have the queen expect. "The king isn't here."

Gwen nodded and closed her eyes, just so she wouldn't have to look at the man by her feet. It was much too painful for her to bare. "Take him away. Have him executed at dawn."

She sank back into her seat, staring at the double-doors ahead, but not truly seeing a thing. No, her mind was far too focused on blocking the condemned man's pleas, his worry for his family, his overall terror, from her mind. She only partially succeeded.

It happened twice more, whilst Ceri was still working in the palace, and a further three after she left to live with her sister in a village two days journey from the centre of Camelot. Sefa, Gwen's second maidservant, tended to stay away during sentencing of criminals. But she'd always bring the queen a warm drink and a pleasant smile afterwards, and Gwen was thankful for that.

* * *

It isn't just the sentencing that she finds hard, though it's certainly the most difficult thing. On a bad night, she'll hear the screams of those criminals, her mind conjuring up images of their friends and family, all of whom seem to blame her and her alone. When Arthur's home, he's quick to assure her that it's all a nightmare, to soothe her until her breathing isn't too rapid and her eyes are no longer pricked by stinging tears. When he's away, she must do so herself. Sefa has assured her, time and time again, that she will come if ever she's needed, but Gwen knows she will only feel guilty if she awakens her maidservant in the middle of the night for something so trivial as a nightmare. No matter how real it felt.

After the second time, she'd waited for Arthur to come back from his escapade; rescuing Sir Leon and her brother, Sir Elyan, from bandits in the forest. It was late, and she sat beneath the sheets of their bed in her nightgown, feigning sleep whenever Ceri entered to check on her. After an hour or so of night, the dark-haired maid had apparently grown tired and retired to her own chambers for the night.

Arthur had entered quietly, so as not to wake the wife he so clearly thought was sleeping. He struggled with unbuckling his belt, and found it nearly impossible to pull his chain-mail tunic over his head. At this point, Gwen had slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room, silently helping him to lift it.

"I thought you were asleep." He'd told her.

"I know." She'd replied quietly, walking around him to drape the chain-mail in her hands over the back of a chair.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, following after her.

She'd kept her eyes on the seat of the chair, hadn't turned round to look at him, mostly because her situation suddenly seemed so _foolish_. He'd been raised by a man who condemned people like the elderly lady she'd sentenced earlier on a regular basis. Surely, this was just the fear of a new queen, a commoner.

"Guinevere, I know when something's wrong." He pressed. "Is it something one of my men did?"

"No, nothing your men did." Gwen answered quickly, not wanting to get the knights into trouble, especially for something that they played no part in. They were good men, every one of them, and she knew this.

"Well, then, what is it?" His footsteps stopped, and Guinevere could feel his presence directly behind her. It was both comforting and terrifying at once.

With a deep breath, she spun round to face him. "Arthur… How do you cope with it? Condemning people, I mean."

Before it fully registered in her mind, he'd pulled her into a hug, cradling her head with one hand against his shoulder. "You try to forget." He whispered.

"But _how_?"

"I'm not sure."

* * *

The knights were loyal to Gwen but, then again, they always had been. Camelot's finest had, at any rate. Sir Leon had been firm friends with the blacksmith's daughter since they were children, and with several of the new knights coming from poorer backgrounds themselves, they weren't so quick to judge as they might've been otherwise. And there was always Elyan. The knights trusted him with their lives, and she figured that, somehow, she fit into that idea, being his sister.

The people of Camelot didn't have this prior knowledge. Those unacquainted with her late father, her knight of a brother, were quick to believe the rumours that spread about the kingdom after her marriage to Arthur like wildfire. It had pained her, at first. _She_ knew they weren't true, and to think that people out there truly believed it was enough to deteriorate anyone's faith in the world.

"But _you_ know they aren't true." Leon had assured her, having caught her moping in the corridor whilst he was dashing to a training session with Arthur and the other knights- for which he was very late! "The best thing you can do is walk with your head held high and a spring in your step. They'll see the Guinevere _we_ all know, soon enough, but only if you show it to them. Not this sad, quiet little creature."

His words had made Gwen smile, made her act on them. And, indeed, anywhere that the public might see her, Queen Guinevere held her head high. But inside, she was always trembling with the nervousness of it all.

* * *

She might've teased him for it when he first told her, but Gwen truly grew to share in her husband's most treasured dream. If he were to run away and become a farmer, and she his wife, and they could live the remainder of their lives ploughing fields and milking cows… It would honestly be perfect. They'd be away from the rumours, from the crushing weight of a responsibility she doesn't believe she'll ever get to grips with, just happy in the light of the day and the company of each-other.

A knock on the door pulled her attention away from her thoughts.

"Enter." She called, expecting Sefa. When Merlin hurried in and grins at her, it would be an understatement to say that she's surprised. "Merlin! I was expecting Sefa."

"She's still washing your nightdress." Merlin said. Gwen wrinkled her nose, remembering how frustrating it always was to wash the flimsy fabric of Morgana's nightgown. Her husband's manservant caught this action and his grin grew even wider.

"Well, what can I do for you?" She smiled politely.

"Arthur has requested you go on a picnic with him later." Merlin's grin suddenly had a reasoning behind it.

"Has he now?" Gwen tried to damper the joy in her thoughts as she fought the urge to leap from her seat and run to the stables now, hurriedly saddle a horse and ride to their usual picnic spot. "What if I'm busy?"

"He didn't make it sound like there's any room for argument." Merlin retorted, that grin returning. "_But_ if you're busy, I'll just tell him…" He turned to go.

"No!" Gwen hurriedly shouted, leaping from her seat and dashing towards him a few steps.

Merlin spun back round, eyes a-twinkle with mischief. "I'll tell him you'll be ready by tea time."

"Thank you, Merlin."

As much as she had to learn about being queen, as much as her heart called for her to run away with her husband and set up a life on a country farm, Guinevere couldn't deny that picnics with her husband never failed to make her see the happiness in the world again.

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**Sorry if the time-switching here is a little confusing. Thank you for reading this, and I hope it's been at least mildly enjoyable for you :)**


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